Fic title: The Red and the White
Author name: herminekurotowa
Artist name: m14mouse
Alpha: somer, junkerin
Genre: RPS, slash
Pairing: Jensen/Jared, Jensen/Ty (implied)
Word count: 4,770
Warnings: biting, barebacking, violence
Summary: Timestamp to Bread and Blood – Finally, Jensen and Jared are happy together. Then Jensen meets his creator, and at the end, Jared is being awesome.
I'm very sorry it took me so long to finish this fic. Ty just didn't want to be written. *sighs*
I'm also sorry about the ending. I don't think there will be more timestamps or sequels, not in the foreseeable future.
Trust is a wonderful thing.
Face to face, thrusting into Jared – watching him moan, writhe, sweat, because he trusts Jensen – that is all he needs: the other body's tight heat, Jared's fingernails scratching his back, and there being nothing between them. He is as close as possible to his lover, his life as he can get.
Angling his body, he finds that spot in Jared and makes him mewl. Fuck, it's so hot. He does it again, just to hear that sound. Then he sinks his teeth in, breaking lightly tanned skin, tasting sweat and Jared. He smells apples when Jared comes untouched, spurting hot stripes of white between them, and it's so hot.
He comes inside Jared, marking him with his own hot white release, still sucking blood from his shoulder, and this is all he wants and needs.
Jensen still only sleeps a couple of hours in the night. He always thought his insomnia was caused by his situation, the loneliness, his work – stuff. As it appears, it is a symptom of his condition. But now, when he is awake in the night, it's nice. He can watch a DVD or TV, knowing that Jared is asleep in the next room, or he can watch Jared in his sleep.
He likes watching Jared – in the morning when he is barely awake, after his run when he is all flushed pink and sweaty, in the evening when he eats pizza and pasta while talking about his day. But watching Jared sleep is what he likes best, relaxed and sleep-warm, breathing evenly.
Right now, Jared is dreaming. His eyes are rolling under their lids, his lips twitching in a soft smile.
God, he's gorgeous, Jensen thinks
Jensen still can't believe that he has this. When he told Jared about his condition, there was the great fall-out he had dreaded. Jared's words – need to think, give me time – cut into him right to the bone though Jensen understood. He would have freaked out even more if his boyfriend confessed being a unnatural creature, if the roles were reversed.
During the next several weeks, he was rooted to the spot in front of his living room window, staring down into Jared's window, seeing nothing but shadows moving through the blinds.
Then, Jared's dad died.
When Jared called, he left his apartment straight away. Comforting Jared helped Jensen too, soothing the pain left behind by Tahmoh's death. Maybe Jensen is a killer but he killed in self-defense, to protect his boyfriend. He would be mourning Jared now if he hadn't snapped Tahmoh's neck.
The next steps were difficult, though. Tiny.
Butterfly touches of hands and shoulders, small smiles, brief kisses on cheeks, cuddling on the couch and in the bed. Maybe that was the best part, waking up after two or three hours of sleep with long fingers curled around his and strong legs tangled in his, breathing the same air and sharing body heat.
Jared doesn't need to work as hard as before now that his dad is gone and he doesn't have to pay for his care. He quit the part-time janitor job after an unknown benefactor donated a big sum to the hospital, paying all of his outstanding bills – Jensen wonders if the senator would ever do something of the sort, but he keeps his mouth shut.
Now that he only waits tables at Jeff's restaurant and club, Jared is able to start college again. Jensen works as a bouncer at the Lido Nights club when Jared waits tables. He is kind, but unyielding, especially when someone is about to touch his boyfriend inappropriately.
During the day, Jensen worked at a construction site. His unnatural physical strength works to his advantage when cement bags and wooden boards needed hauling around. He is well liked by his co-workers – not least for his dry wit and sharing the candy Jared puts into his lunch box. For the first time since seventh grade, he has friends.
When he needs blood, he falls back on hook-ups he finds in clubs – night clubs, pubs, men and women, he is not picky in that regard. There's nothing sexual about feeding from people other than Jared, though he tries to make it a night to remember for them. They are only food, a way to keep up his strength and sanity, and keep the hunger under control.
Jared, though – Jared is different. When he is allowed to feed from Jared, it is more than just the blood. With every sip he sucks life. He only needs a few sips, but it makes for some memorable nights in bed. The next morning, Jared is usually ravenous, eating heaps of pancakes and sausages and drinking more orange juice than coffee, but he is fine, signature silly grin in place.
It wasn't easy for Jared to trust him, Jensen knows that. He was shot and hurt badly because of Jensen who is not human, who could bleed him to death if he couldn't contain the urge. Restraining himself is easy now, though. It is something he learned in the closet and, later, in the mental institution.
And tonight Jared gave him the biggest gift.
They shared intimacy and affection, and Jensen had never experienced anything similar before. Oh, of course he knows sex in many varieties, but Jared doesn't. They had traded blow jobs and hand jobs before, they had cuddled and rutted against each other. Tonight though – tonight, Jared agreed to bottom, and beyond that, he agreed to bareback.
Now he is sleeping peacefully, the scent of apples still lingering in the air.
Jensen watches, smiling.
Right at that moment, it hits him.
When Jensen comes to, Jared is still sleeping.
He doesn't know what happened. There is just the feeling of... a dark desire, an appalling appetite receding slowly from his veins. Wide-eyed and frantic, he searches Jared but there is nothing, no wounds, no bite marks.
“Hmmm... Jen...” Jared mumbles, sinking back into sleep.
Jensen remembers blood in his throat, a stream of blood, more than he had ever drank in one go. But – it's not his throat, his fangs biting and tearing.
Is it a memory – can it be? He has never killed a person, not with his teeth anyway. There were those times in the institution when he was crazy, howling mad with blood lust, but he has never killed someone. That is what he had thought all the time – until now.
Now there is doubt in his heart
His skin is too tight, his hair damp with sweat, his stomach revolving around a dark center, hot and crimson. It's a feeling he has experienced before, way back, when Ty left him to die, to rot in a wardrobe.
It's the first time Jensen is in love. It's a good feeling.
When he first met Ty, he was a john – the only way for Jensen to meet guys, though he never considered it a way to meet a boyfriend. Ty was older, attentive and kind. He paid without a fuss, never asked for kinky stuff though he liked sex a bit rough, and said things like, 'You should be a model' and 'One day, I'm gonna get you out of here'.
It is no wonder Jensen fell for him in just a few weeks' time.
He believed him when Ty started talking about running away, making a new life together, a home.
They meet in an abandoned apartment building. Jensen brings his backpack with all his belongings because Ty asked him to.
Before leaving, they make love.
That's what Jensen makes himself believe because it's too rough, too painful for him to enjoy. He says It hurts, but Ty doesn't listen, keeps on pounding, his chest to Jensen's back.
Tears are pooling in Jensen's eyes because it hurts, because he feels betrayed. This is not the Ty he knows. And then... something scratches at his neck.
Teeth. Teeth are scraping over his skin, and Ty bites, he is sinking long teeth into soft flesh while at the same time emptying his seed into him.
Jensen's toes are starting to tingle. His orgasm is racing through his spine, washing over him, drowning him in a wave of lust and pleasure.
Ty is still sucking his blood like a leech. It causes a feeling in Jensen's loins he has never experienced before, something he would describe like the purest pleasure, and there is still more where his orgasm came from. He is still riding the high.
When Ty keeps on sucking though, Jensen's moans of lust become moans of distress and pain.
Losing blood hurts. No – getting his life sucked out of him hurts. He tries to buck off the man he thought to be his lover, but the grip on his shoulders tightens, and the weight on his back increases. In the end, there is nothing left to fight with, no blood, no strength, no life, and Jensen, succumbing to the darkness, ceases to exist.
He can't bear the weight of the ceiling so he leaves the building. Outside, it is still dark, but there are people on the streets, and Jensen seeks calm in their scents. The sharp fish-like smell of unwashed and sweaty bodies, the faint taste of apples, honeysuckle and soot. Sometimes, he can smell what they had for dinner, the women's make-up, and that odd smell he suspects to be cancer.
And that one distinctive odor he smelt so many years ago, that he thought he would never encounter again.
He turns around and around, scenting and searching, but there's nothing. No one.
Jensen always thought he would die on the streets, mugged, stabbed, or shot to death. He never thought he would die in a closet.
Ty is cupping his cheek when he comes to. It's an affectionate gesture, but unfortunately, it's a lie.
His wrists and ankles are bound, his limbs feel like lead, and Ty's caress is sweet. Nothing makes sense, his world is upside down, and all he wants to do is curl into a ball and sleep.
“Oh my precious pet,” Ty says, his thumb rubbing over Jensen's lips. “I'm almost sad that it has to end this way. You were my most favorite pet. If it were possible, I'd keep you. Well, it is possible, but I don't want to.”
He grins wolfishly.
Jensen's voice is hoarse, his throat parched. “What... what are you doing?” he asks. “What is the meaning of this?”
Ty seems to be caught unawares. “The meaning? There's no meaning. I can do it, and that's all there is.” He closes the doors. “Now be a good pet and scream.”
It is dark.
Jensen's sitting in a closet, bound, in a rundown room, in a dilapidated building, in a city that condemned him, in a world he ceased to be a part of.
It is dark, and he is scared. And hungry, so hungry. He is ravenous. The hunger is boiling in his guts, shredding his stomach, his intestines to tiny pieces.
He tries to loosen his bonds, nibbling at the rope, when he smells it – the most delicious smell ever. Heavy, strong, rich, shades of copper and salt, connotations of despair and darkness.
It's his blood. There's a tiny drop of blood on his chafed wrist, singing to him a siren's song, irresistible.
Licking it makes his senses explode.
He can see every little shade of dark – the gray, the light black and the dark black, pitch-dark and coal-black. He smells the roaches beyond the walls, and the scurrying rats. He hears nothing though because of his blood pumping through his veins, drowning his ears in moremoremore. He feels light-headed and down-to earth, euphoric and depressed because there won't be enough blood to appease his hunger even if he gnaws and nibbles at his wrist, his fingers, his arms with new teeth. He tries, though.
In a closet without light, there is also no time. It is a time-free zone, and Jensen could be there for a hundred years without growing old.
Sometimes, he is conscious. Sometimes, he is not. Sometimes, he is not aware that he is conscious because there is no difference between having his eyes open, or closed.
He stares into the darkness with his eyes closed, listening to his heart beating slowly, his lungs drawing breaths slowly. Since he stopped licking and drinking his own blood, the air tastes like ash.
There is no use in ingesting his blood if it doesn't satisfy his raging hunger.
When he gets rid of his bonds it's because his wrists have grown too thin to keep the rope in place. It just drops onto his thighs when he moves. Unfortunately, he is too weak now to try to get the door opened, too weak to do anything other than sit in the dark.
He is glad that there is no light.
He is scared because it could be the light at the end of the tunnel. He would be dead if he saw the light. And in spite of everything, he wants to live when they find him. He doesn't know who may ever find him in that closet, but he wants to be alive when they do.
Nevertheless, he shies away when one day – one night, one year – the world tears open, vomiting light and demons on him. He tries to fight tooth and nail, but he is too weak. Soon, he is overpowered and dragged to Hell.